She's got Balls
by Areya Branxton-Chase
Summary: In the world of football the best a woman can be is a cheerleader, interview or analyst. She has got to be the gutsiest woman on the planet to go into the locker room of a prime team as head coach. Will she succeed & worse what will failure cost her? AU
1. Female on the floor

She walked into the locker room with a vengeance. She was the first female coach in the league ever but she knew they couldn't deny what she knew, how much she knew and how she would take this team by storm. She knew what she would be up against, men who think that this sport can only be handled by other men. Boy did they ever have another thing coming. They would respect her the way they would respect her if she were born with a dick.

The fact of the matter was she loved football since she was an embryo. She was raised on it, lived, breathed and slept it. The only thing she never did was play it professionally but if there were a way she would be able she would show these running backs a thing or two about how the game was played, but here was her way to do so. The saying was those who can do, those who can't teach. Well since they were intimidated by a woman on the field she would teach.

She stood in front of her new boss' office, _game time._

_-----------------_

"The infamous Joey Rodriguez," the owner of the Boston Cougars greeted her. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you.

She shook his hand, "How do you do?"

"I want you to be prepared about what you're up against."

She wanted to roll her eyes, she knew what she was up against; a bunch of little boys with grown man egos.

"Do you think there will be any problems?"

He looked at her; did he think there would be any problems? He was bringing a new head coach and not only that he was bringing in a woman, if he didn't think there would be any problems he was a bigger fool than he looked.

"Well I think you're going to be a bit of a culture shock for them."

Joey nodded in answer. Inside she couldn't stop herself from laughing her ass off. Culture shock, huh? The fact of the matter of when it came to this game the best a woman could be was reporter or cheerleader. She was better than that. She could analyze the field with the best of them as well as being able to design and call plays of the most exotic sort. There wouldn't be a defense in the league that would be ready for her offense and not an offense on the roster that would be able to handle her blitzes.

"I think I can handle it." She told him, "Just one question."

"And that is?"

"Do they know I'm female?"

He shook his head; he only hired her because given her credentials he would have a fuck of a discrimination charge on his hands had he not hired her. But he was confident that with the group he had on his hands she was going to step down before the season ended. As he looked at this beautiful, delicate featured creature in front of him he had no doubt that she'd bitten off way more than she could chew.

She smiled the most devious smile he'd ever seen on a human being in his life. It was a definite cross between an angel and Lucifer himself. "Good," she said, "keep it that way."

* * *

The locker room was buzzing about the new head coach that owner Vince McMahon had hired. Everything had been quiet as kept when it came to the new candidate. They had to admit, without it being announced to the likes of the ESPN it must've been one of the biggest names in all of football.

"Female on the floor," she announced loud enough for all to hear.

She didn't really need to because it was a team meeting they should've been dressed already but just in case someone wanted be a smart ass. She stood there in her black A-line skirt, white shirt with a collar. Her black stilettos brought her five foot seven inch frame up to five eleven so that she could look her shortest player in the eye. She wanted them to look at her just as they were; as someone they could intimidate. They so had another thing coming.

"Hello there," John Cena stepped in front of her. According to her roster and research he was her ladies man running back.

"Hello there," she said back in her professional, take no prisoners tone. "In fact, good afternoon team. How are you?" A chorus of 'How _you_ doing?' ensued making her feel like she was in a bad episode of _Friends_. "I'm well today and thank you for asking." She looked around noting her power contenders and her power pretenders. She already knew that she was going to strip this team down to its base and build it all over again. "I'm also Joey Rodriguez," she told them, "your new head coach."

There was such a silence that you could hear an ant sneeze. Some of them looked so stunned that if the wind blew too hard they were going fall dead at her four inch Jimmy Choo's. Taking their silence as a a cue to continue she did. "As you found on each of your chairs there is a new team agenda. Please abide by it, failure to do so will result in fines which are outlined in the new regulation handbook." The standoff began, them staring at her and her following suit. She would not be intimidated, she didn't give a damn what they did. The silence was finally broken when out of the blue, John Cena burst into laughter.

"Yeah right," he said as he took a deep breath from laughing. "So where is the real Joey Rodriguez?"

Ignoring his question completely she continued, "So if no one has any questions then I will need just ten minutes to change into more suitable work out gear. Per the new guidelines practice stars at 10 a.m. sharp and as of 9:55, you are late. Suitable consequences will be found at the back of the handbook. Any questions?" They were all exchanging looks with each other, as she stated she would not be intimidated so if they wanted to try her they would find that they would lose that battle. "Good, then it's 9:40 I'll meet you outside on the field for warm ups. Meeting adjourned." And with that she headed back out of the locker room.

She changed into a wife beater, a pair of black nylon sweats and a pair of Nikes. She headed to the field to find it bare. She smiled. _Is that how you want to play this game?_ She headed to her office to write up fine slips and game suspensions.

_Fine. It's game time._


	2. Warming up

"If you think for a single second I'm going to pay a fucking 2,500 dollar fine for missing practice you're Gucci scarf is too damned tight," John Cena stormed into her office.

Joey looked down at her scarf, "its Fendi, Mr. Cena. And I actually went easy on you considering it was a first time infraction of one of the most primary regulations." She stood and walked around to his side of the desk sitting on the edge of it, "I can promise that the next time I won't be so lenient."

"Joey,"

"Is there anything else I can help you with Mr. Cena? Do you need a pen to write that check perhaps?"

She smirked. "Or would you prefer to pay by cashier's check or money order?" She knew what she was doing, driving a frustrated man into further frustration. But the wonderful thing is he was in the wrong and Mr. McMahon had given her full reign unlike other teams in the league her owner wouldn't be breathing down her damned neck.

"No," he threw the fine slip on the floor, "and it'll be a cold day in hell before you get that fine."

She smiled her signature hell's angel smirk, "Cash is always acceptable too." He turned to leave, "If you refuse to pay the fine, which is certainly your right then not only will be a cold day in hell before you run a yard on my football field but Satan will be giving out free snow cones at the door."

"Bullshit." He called her bluff. "I'm the best running back you have."

"According to you," she sighed studying her French manicure. "Don't get the Beyoncé syndrome darling."

"The what?" he sneered at her.

"Don't ever get to thinking you're irreplaceable." She looked him in the eye. He scoffed at her, "Look Cena, there are 2 other capable running backs on this team," she let her sentence dangle. She didn't have to say anything else.

"We'll see about that." He said. She just looked at him, the smile in her eyes taunting him.

"So we shall," Her smiled widened when she noticed he realize she wasn't going to back down.

"I don't know who you think you are,"

"I am Coach Josephine Rodriguez," she reminded him, "just in case you were asleep yesterday during the meeting. My signature authenticated that fine slip." She looked down to where the small slip of paper still lay on the floor to her office. "You keep trying me and it will be at the bottom of a suspension form next."

His jaw began to tick knowing that she wouldn't be intimidated but she could see that this wouldn't be the last of him.

"You might want to remind your team mates that practice starts at 10:00, at 9:55, you are late. For every minute late that means 5 suicides for the team, and 10 personally for the infraction. And that doesn't take the place of the fine, it is in addition to." She looked to him, "Tell them to look to you as an example. Advise them well." He picked his slip up and exited the office silently. She reclaimed her seat behind her desk to finish looking over her practice plans.

_I think that went well._

--

"How did it go?" Dave Batista, strong safety, asked.

John was so pissed he was damn near purple with emotion. "That bitch has got to go!" he seethed.

"She's only been here a day," Dave said smiling.

John didn't find any humor in the situation, "Do you know she had the gall to threaten me with a suspension?"

Dave's smile faded as he just looked at him, "She's bluffing."

John pulled his gym shorts on, "I think so too. She doesn't have the balls, but the fact that she thought enough of herself to make the threat. She'd better watch her damned step."

Shelton Benjamin, John's back up running back chimed in, "Who the hell does she think she is?" he asked, "She just got here."

"I feel the need to keep reminding you who I am," she said from the door, "I'm Josephine Rodriguez," she stated calmly. "Head coach to the Boston Cougars." Everyone looked at her with their mouths slightly ajar, "By the way, female on the floor." She walked further into the locker room as the guys scrambled to cover themselves. "Don't worry, I'm not impressed," she smiled. "Since a great majority of you obviously didn't pay attention during the introductory meeting, as I stated I'm Coach Joey Rodriguez, feel free to call me Joey. I feel the need to explain something as I'm sure Mr. Cena didn't get a chance to through his ranting and raving. I have outlined all of my expectations in the new Cougar handbook. I am not discriminate; I don't give a damn how many TDs you have in your stats column or how many sacks recorded by your name. Don't follow my rules and you'll find yourself witnessing this season from the sidelines." She paused to look at them for any comments, when she got none she continued. "So, as you already know practices start at 10, as of 9:55 you are late. That gives you five minutes to report to my field ready to work." She turned to leave and returned to her stunned players, "Oh, and for those of you that think you want to be cute and half ass me, I'm using these practices to determine who I'm going to cut, trade and bench. Starting jobs are on the line so those of you thinking I'm bluffing," she put bluffing in rabbit ears, "try me." She looked around, that trade mark heaven and hell smirk on her lips, "I'll see you on the field gentlemen."

After Joey took her leave the men stared around at each other, "Still think she's bluffing?" Randy Orton, starting quarterback asked John Cena.

"She keeps trying me and that bitch going to end up in the river some damned where." John Cena stated as he pulled his shorts up.

"I can't front," Dwayne Johnson, number one wide receiver commented as he prepared to head out to the field, "She's fine as shit."

"Hell yeah she is," said Bobby Lashley, strong safety.

"She's a dyke," John muttered.

Everyone looked at him like he was growing antlers, "She ain't no dyke," Paul Levesque countered.

"You got another reason for why McMahon hired her?" John asked. "I mean she walked in here in front of all this dick and didn't flinch."

Paul smiled, "It's called self control and will power, ever heard of it?"

"Suck my dick Paul," John threw his towel at him. "How do you look at this and not blink unless you like pussy." He looked back over his team mates, "that's probably what she needs to loosen herself up a little. Some good dick," John thought about it. As much as he hated to admit it, the latest head coach was one of the hottest pieces of ass he'd seen in a long while and he would love nothing better than to listen to her scream his name as he slammed into her from behind.

Dave rolled his eyes, "Well be that as it may and since I have no interest in losing my starting position I'm headed out to the field." He looked around for those ready to join him.

John scoffed, "I'm not letting that bitch rush me." He looked around, "Ya'll run out there like a bunch of lil' bitches but I'll get there when I'm good and ready."

Dwayne smacked him in the back of the head, "I'm not running no fucking suicides because of you." He pushed him toward the door, "Get your ass on the field." He lowered his voice, "I also don't want to see you lose your starting position or pay any more fines so tuck in your skirt and carry your ass."

John shook his head, again, he hated to admit it but he knew that Joey wasn't bluffing about more fines any more than she was bluffing about putting him on the bench. He shook his head, he wasn't gung ho about following any bitch and especially in an all male world but it was the predicament they faced. What the hell was Vince McMahon thinking? A bitch, to lead of a team of men, he shook his head once more; they were going to become the laughing stock of the league.

They headed onto the field and took in the vision that was Joey Rodriguez; she wore a wife beater, nylon sweats and sneakers. Her curly auburn hair was pulled back into a pony tail that swung like a pendulum between her shoulder blades; her baby soft skin taut as her muscles ripped with every move she made. She was stretching as if prepping to do drills with them. Not that any of them doubted that it was all a show. Their average was approximately 300 pounds a player, she looked like she was all of 170 pounds, but there she was stretching as if she had what it took to pull their drills. It was obvious she was a fire cracker, she'd shown that already. As they approached her, her head snapped up her sharp green eyes seemed to be looking directly through them.

"How good of you to join me gentlemen," she address them. "I have been watching your film, and we have a hell of a lot of work to do. Meet me on the fifty yard line." She moved toward the middle of the field. "Alright gentlemen, we have a hell of a day ahead of us so let's commence to stretching. I don't need anyone sitting on the sidelines with pulled, strained or torn muscles. Let's go." She blew her whistled and waited for them to join her in stretching.

Secretly underneath all rough exterior, Joey Rodriguez was as giddy as a school girl. All she'd ever wanted to do with her time was football. She studied film while most girls her age wandered the malls. She knew stats like most women knew their bodies and all she wanted was the respect that she would be given had she had all this knowledge but been born with different genitalia.

She blew her whistle again to get their attention, "I need two lines, horizontal. Offense, to my front; defense to my back and special teams I want you to divide up equally and take your positions at either side of the field goal line." She waited for them to take their positions. "Now, I cannot deny any of your heart, I won't. But I can deny your conditioning so…offense, defense from where you are to the 20, I need 30 suicides, let's go." She moved toward her special teams' players, "from where you are to the 13," she blew her whistle, "Let's move it."

She watched as they all stood about and stared at each other. She smiled on the inside; she was the queen of rebellion. "Okay, I see we are going to start with the basic basics, when I blow my whistle," she blew her whistle, "You move. When I blow it twice," she demonstrated, "you stop." She looked at where they stood, "and if you can't get those perhaps you shouldn't be starting. So who in this crowd can handle doing these thirty suicides so we can get on to the next tier in our warm ups?"

Grumbling, they began to sprint down the field. She would be a lying fool if she said that as a woman she wasn't enjoying watching them getting all sweaty as they tore up and down the turf, men in all different shapes, colors and sizes and she was in paradise. As a coach she was disappointed to see that they were breathing heavily and they were barely half way through the suicides. She sighed.

_They had a long way to go._


	3. Engaging

"Damn son," John said to Dave as they got their massages. "I'm sore as shit."

Dave chuckled at him, "Serves you right. Why the hell do you keep goading her? It's become very apparent that she's not 'bluffing'." He put the word in rabbit ears, a classic Joey Rodriguez trade mark.

"I know, but damn." He said. "Even you Mr. Politically Correct have got to be feeling some kind of way about following some bitch on the football field that isn't a cheerleader or an interviewer."

Dave thought about it, in the grand scheme of things he would be the first to admit that it was a little bit disconcerting but he also had to admit that in the same scheme of things, she held his future in her petite hands. "You got to give her credit where it's due. She knows her shit."

John sighed hard, he couldn't dispute that. As she came in with her hard-ass, I-don't-take-no-shit attitude, he could see a vast improvement in the way the team played. He himself found himself looking down the field in a way he hadn't in the past and his blockers were definitely opening up holes making him look better.

"I know, but she's a woman." Dispute the facts or no, he couldn't get over the fact that his new coach had a vagina.

"A fact we are going to have to all get used to." Dave shrugged. He looked at John like a younger brother and felt he had to hip him to certain aspects of the league. "I mean, you are going to find yourself fucking up an opportunity that most men would give their left nut for. Why, because you feel your coach doesn't have any?"

"Just the opposite," John smirked. "She's got bigger balls than most of us. That shit doesn't bother you at all?"

Dave shrugged again, "I guess if she were incompetent at what she did I would have an issue but all jokes aside I see why McMahon hired her, the woman is fucking genius. I mean would I like that genius to be in a man and not a woman, hell yeah. Despite what you may think, when it comes to football I am a traditionalist, but I can also see we are six weeks into training camp and we are looking like we may win more than four games this season. The woman is making history. Don't you want to be a part of that?"

To be honest, he just wanted to be a part of a winning organization for once but he didn't think that it meant a woman had to lead them. They finished their massages in silence only broken by the ringing of both their blackberry cell phones. It was film time.

Joey had watched their film for what had to have been the twentieth time, wondering how and why certain blocks had been missed, assignments completely blown and all without punishment. She would surely be addressing this particular game today.

She heard the team filing in behind her. She rewound the clip again and pushed play, showing how the opposing quarterback had about seven seconds of undisturbed pocket to work with, completely carving up her secondary; this was un-a-fucking-ceptable.

"Good afternoon gentlemen," she said quietly. "I'm just reviewing one of the games from last season and I got to say, I'm impressed." She turned around to face them. "I'm impressed that with the level of incompetence I'm looking at, that most of you still have jobs." She turned around to rewind the tape. "I want to first acknowledge the front seven, guys, what the hell. You have on average fifty pounds on this particular o-line and you can't penetrate their backfield?" she was almost outraged though her voice remained quiet and evenly toned. "Strong safety my ass," she said watching as the ball sailed through the air damn near grazing the scalp of one of her cornerbacks, "easy interception." She looked at the side where her defensive players sat, "Someone want to be the one to explain to me why it didn't take place? Why someone didn't at least put their damned hands up to block the pass. This reception couldn't have possibly taken place if this defense was competent." Bobby Lashley put his hand up, "Lashley." She acknowledged him.

"This spiral was pretty tight,"

"Save it," she slowed the tape down showing where the ball had narrowly missed Chris Master's helmet. "Jump ball saves the reception," she stated. "So, tell me again." The room was silent. "As I said team, we have a lot of work to do, I'm not against cutting players nor am I against benching a player. If I were to ever seem some off brand shit like this on this team while _I'm _coach please understand that I will have your ass riding the pines for the rest of the damned season only to send your ass home with a pink slip. Now let's get busy." She started to play the tape again then paused, "and do yourselves a favor. Take notes."

The rest of the film session went like that, Joey stopping the tape, explaining things that they missed or didn't care enough to see. She was determined that the team she had grown up loving as a child would get their acts together so help her she'd fire the whole lot of them. Finally she looked at her watch, she had enough and there were still at least 15 more tapes like this to endure, "Dismissed. I'll see you on the field at 8 am sharp."

She looked down at her notes as they walked out of the room; _they had a long way to go._

Joey was frustrated. This team was just lazy and she felt that most of them were still playing with her in a juvenile attempt to make her quit. She would have none of this madness. She was not quitting her dream job for a bunch of damned toddlers.

"Can any of you read?" she asked after she'd blown the whistle bringing the practice to a halt. She looked to her offensive coordinator, Shawn Michaels and her defensive coordinator Kevin Nash, both men old enough to be her father or even her grandfather. "Gentlemen," she address both coordinators, "I would like you to start implementing the fines for penalties. False starts and off sides penalties are for college players. You are professionals." She smiled, "Monies collected for fines will be used for the team of course." She blew her whistle, "Let's get busy."

She watched her team continued to play aggressively. She watched as many of her defensive players engaging with their head up. _What in hell?_

"Mr. Nash," she blew her whistle. She knew that he wasn't exactly thrilled at the fact that she'd made head coach but tough. "What the hell are your players doing?"

"Joey," he said between strained teeth.

"Save it," she came down off her platform she used to be able to view the team as a whole. She stood in front of one of her biggest defensive players, "Batista, engage me. On my whistle," The whole team stopped cold and watched her, David had yet to move. She walked up to him, his bulky frame, she couldn't possibly meet his eye but she made damn sure to make sure he knew she wasn't playing, "I said, engage me." She blew her whistle, "Let's go."

She got down in position to engage him and just like she suspected he was going into it with his head up. Like her father had always told her, the eyes are deceitful, the body never lies. The waist is the center of gravity and you destroy that and the man will crumble. After she tackled David she looked up, to Kevin pulling her up. She was out of breath, by no means was it an easy feat, the man had 200 pounds on her but she made him exert his strength and energy to do what it was she wanted him to do.

"Now, you never engage an opponent with your heads up, you should know that. You are going to mess around and they are going to carry you off my field on a damned stretcher with your necks broken. Give me a break," she looked at Kevin, "and you were letting it go on. Ridiculous." She blew her whistle, "Continue."

David watched her, they underestimated her. While he would never admit it to his team, he had not gone easy on her by any means, if she wanted to be one of the boys, he was going to show her what that was like. But, one thing he hadn't betted on was she knew how to make the body do what she wanted it to do. The ultimate manipulator, she was a bad bitch and they needed to all recognize it.

Kevin glared at her but he also did what she asked, making sure the boys engaged with their heads down. She shook her head, she wanted to go upstairs and shake Mr. McMahon. How could he let this kind of shit go on and be shocked when they go 4 and 12? She shook her head.

_It's crunch time._


End file.
